Wandering To A Distant Field
by Uberscribbler
Summary: Lee Adama has wandered and explored the world, not seeing another soul for 364 days. What he will find on the 365th will change him forever. Post-"Daybreak", post-'Starbuck *Poof*', pure wish-fulfillment on my part. Enjoy.
1. Chapter 1

_Opening Statement: I own none of the characters or underlying backstory herein. I'm simply borrowing them for my own creative purposes, not out of hope for monetary compensation. Its set post-"Daybreak" (obviously!) and is my ineffectual effort to 'fix' that horrible conclusion of a certain pilot's saga. More substantive comments at the end here._

* * *

**Wandering to a Distant Field** (1/?)

Lee Adama had wandered the land for 364 days, neither speaking with nor seeing another living soul all but the first two days of it. This suited his mood, which had persisted since…since he'd started walking. Walking away from that field of grass where his father flew away, followed quickly by…

Lee knew it was exactly 364 days because he'd taken to carving little nicks into the solid branch he'd taken to using as a walking stick every five days. It was one of the many mental exercises he engaged in to keep himself halfway sane. In his quieter moments, Lee suspected such measures were all for naught and he'd cracked apart after the third day. Certainly marching off and into the hills - without telling anyone else and taking just the barest minimum of equipment and provisions - didn't speak well of his state of mind.

Not that he was demonstrably suicidal, mind. He had yet to use the sidearm he'd taken, instead relying on his knife, the bow and arrows he'd constructed, and what wilderness training he could recall. Those were enough to ensure he caught sufficient game to survive, his proficiency and confidence sharpening over time. It was nearly enough to make him forget about…

But he never really forgot. Frak, this whole world was a constant, godsdamned reminder of…of her.

In 364 days, Lee Adama had not once allowed himself to so much as _think_ her name. Truth be told, it was Helo's asking about her that sent Lee off on this journey. Karl had said her name with such ease, as if thinking she were still _there_, it threatened to send Lee into a frenzy.

Instead, it sent him running – quite literally – for the mountains. Mountains he'd so rashly stated he'd wanted to climb and explore. Those same mountains were of such height and challenge that by rights they should have wiped all other thoughts from his conscious mind.

Lee would admit that going to the mountains was, in retrospect, a mistake. It was a mistake because…she…had chosen to 'leave' before hearing everything he'd wanted to say that day in that distant field. He hadn't been lying about wanting to wander and explore this new world; he'd simply been a little too slow in voicing two words that would have made the difference.

But he hadn't said the words, not when they would have mattered, so he stopped saying anything at all. He just walked, climbed, observed, hunted, ate, slept, drank, and explored this vibrant land…alone.

Was that his curse for being too slow? If so, so be it. Given his state of mind, which he suspected was devolving into something bordering obsession, it was probably just as well he'd left the rest of humanity behind. If he was supremely lucky, he'd never encounter another human and end his days falling to the claws of something bigger and fiercer than himself.

Or so Lee told himself with some regularity. It was certainly a better explanation than the simple reality that he missed…her…and wished to the gods (who, despite everything, he still didn't believe in) for just one more chance.

But she was gone, and he was left alone. It was a state he was used to, even savored in a strange way. It was comfortable, like old, worn leather. Lee paused his descent and considered the metaphor. Yeah, he was becoming like old leather: tough and resilient, but stiff and cracked and not much good for anything. Just as well he'd left when he did, otherwise who knows what might have happened or what else he'd become.

No matter what, she'd still be gone, and he'd still be alone.

* * *

It was day 359 and the mountains were far behind him, while before him lay a shallow river valley of trees and grass. Not quite as tall or wild as the one he'd left, but familiar enough to give Lee further heartache. He was profoundly grateful therefore to discover something…odd in the landscape to distract him further.

It wasn't anything exceptional really, just a trench that been carved out of the soil nearby. From a distance, it first looked like a large irrigation ditch. That theory fell apart given there were no bodies of water or rivers in evidence. As he approached, several things became clear. First, that it hadn't been recently dug; grass had begun to regrow in and around it, indicating the soil had been turned out at least a year ago.

Second, it was far too wide and irregular to be a planned earthwork; Lee doubted the natives would have come up with on their own, never mind that it didn't appear to have any practical purpose. It was nowhere near the river nearby, so it couldn't be irrigation, and the trench itself was too shallow to serve as a foxhole or hiding place.

It was a puzzle, one Lee was only to happy to put his mind to. The problem was there weren't any other clues beyond the ditch itself, and nothing in the surrounding area could suggest the cause. To the right of the ditch was simply more forest and the river itself. Looking towards his left, Lee spied an incline leading further down into this valley. Something told him the answer lay there, and having no other ideas, he headed in that direction.

The incline wasn't especially steep, but neither was all that gentle. Lee therefore took his time in descending, eyes alert for anything that might prove a threat. The sight of several fallen or broken trees during his descent gave him some inkling of what he might find there. It was in following the trail of damaged flora, said damage becoming more and more prevalent as he walked, a clearer picture started to form. Something had clearly...crashed through this forest, into this valley...something that did so from an angle of he judged thirty to forty degrees off the horizon...something that came down from the sky.

Except it was a picture that didn't make a lot of sense. Lee mentally reviewed the locations of the various settlements they'd established, trying to recall if any of the transports might have flown this way, only to come up blank. One of the pilots deciding to take their plane up for one last sortie maybe? A supply run gone bad perhaps?

Whoever it had been, their descent must have been only partially controlled, otherwise they'd have made their landing out in the grassland. Plus which 'hot' engines still firing would explain the abundance of scorch marks on many of the trunks and branches. Lee wondered what the pilot had been thinking when they were dropping, whether they were praying to the Lords for deliverance or just concentrating on their instruments and trying to pull their nose up. The end result would have been the same, but...

He found himself stopping short when he reached the end of the trail, his previous expectations rudely demolished at the sight of...a Mark II Viper. The wreckage of one, anyway, sitting on the muddy bank of one of the river's tributaries.

Lee approached the wreckage carefully, taking careful note of its surroundings. The plane had apparently crashed there, the pilot attempting a 'hard' landing in what must have looked from the air like a relatively dry riverbed. The forest was especially thick and by rights shouldn't have presented a serious obstacle if the pilot knew what they doing. Judging by how the Viper was comparatively intact, the pilot apparently had known their business well enough to set it down with a minimum of damage to the fuselage.

Further examination of the plane proved only more puzzling. The fuselage wasn't _wrecked_ in the sense of having been torn apart by the impact with the ground. Sure the metal was bent here and there, with the starboard wing nearly sheared off and the landing gear torn completely off the undercarriage. Lee suspected the pilot had actually managed to eject prior to setting down, given their seat and the canopy were both missing. He couldn't help but dismiss the thought as soon as it came to him, as it would mean the Viper landed this way _without_ human guidance, an image that was too absurd to credit.

What proved more interesting to Lee was that while the Viper had clearly landed (mostly) intact, there were now pieces of it missing. Mostly it was easily removed parts of the fuselage, but parts of the engine were likewise gone, mainly around the fuel system. He was willing to bet the fuel reservoir had been drained and some kind of container jury rigged out of the missing pieces. Tapping the tip of his finger to a length of blue-colored hose that was hanging free, Lee was unsurprised to find it dry.

Taking a step back, he regarded the plane more clinically and left pondering the hows and whys of its presence there for another day. Rather, he focused on figuring out how long it had been sitting there in the mud. There wasn't any heavy rust or corrosion to be seen, nor much overgrowth by the local plants. He guessed the plane had crashed there a year, two years ago at most, judging by the presence of a small nest perched on the upper engine's casing. That timeframe was obviously impossible given the fleet hadn't jumped into this system that long ago.

Lee squinted up at the tail-fin, trying to make out the alphanumeric stencil, but couldn't make out more than a few characters: a _5_...a _7_...an _N_...and what might have been an _R_ or a _P_. He thought for a moment about climbing up to get a better look, but the sight of a mother bird flying in to settle atop its nest held him back. What would knowing the ID number mean, anyway? It wasn't like he carried a squadron roster in his head any longer.

Shaking his head, Lee backed away a half-step, then turned back towards the cockpit. Empty as it was, the nameplate was still there. Simple curiosity more than anything drew him forward. This part of the Viper has apparently suffered the least damage, although the titanium skin was still scorched in places. The plate itself was partially obscured by soot and mud, both of which were easily rubbed off, revealing…

Lee threw himself back from the Viper, pulling his hands away as if burnt. He actually stumbled several paces and nearly landed in the water of the stream. His breath started coming in heavy pants as he fought to keep from dry-heaving. His fingers fairly tingled and itched to the bone, as if they'd been brushed with weak acid. Worse, he couldn't stop shaking, couldn't get ahold of himself long enough to regain his footing…never mind approach…_it_…again.

Maybe it was the multiple shocks this piece of wreckage had given him, or the afternoon head that had been beating down on his unprotected head, or just the fact he'd marched half-way around this damned planet. Whatever the reason, Lee Adama couldn't keep his eyes open any longer, and was quickly and thoroughly unconscious to the world.

* * *

When he opened his eyes again, Lee had held the small hope that the Viper would no longer be there. He in fact half-expected it to have disappeared, but wasn't really surprised to find it hadn't. Nevertheless, it was awhile before he could marshal his energies to rise and approach the wreck again. It was far easier to simply sit there and pretend it – and singular piece of it – didn't exist.

That strategy afforded him peace of mind enough where he could set up his camp beside the river, wash himself down and forage for supplies. He'd have to remember this place. If he remembered his cartography correctly, he was fairly close to the planetary equator, so the weather should be mild year-round. Add to that the evidence of abundant game and edible flora and it made for quite the vacation spot.

Unfortunately, it simply wasn't possible to continue to ignore the 20 ton source of his mental distress for long. It was barely a day before Lee found himself drifting towards it again. Really there was no excuse for finding the Viper so upsetting. It wasn't as if it was about to leap up and fly away on him; not that he would have protested if it did. Lee spent that morning poking around the undersides of the wings, checking if the cannons were loaded or if there was any danger of…anything. It turned out the ordinance had likewise been scavenged, the 30mm shells having been extracted and individually broken open. Picking up one of the shells, Lee tapped it onto his open palm, utterly unsurprised that no powder came out.

After that he concentrated on surveying the remainder of the plane, intending to catalogue every piece that had been removed. It proved to be a mixed bag of elements, each of which he could see some practical use of: the parachute, canopy, and chair harness could all be made into a sort of sled for example. The fuel and ordinance powder was perfect for making fire. Lee was less sure about the missing engine tubing, wiring from the HUD console, and parts from the fuselage. The pilot had even managed to detach part of the port-side cannon and presumably had taken it with them.

All well and good, but where did that leave him? Despite himself, Lee finished his last circuit around the plane, stopping to stand beside the cockpit. He closed his eyes and braced himself, then opened them and looked down at the nameplate and its impossible lettering:

_Capt. Kara Thrace_  
_"Starbuck"_

Just a handful of letters that, by rights, couldn't be spelling _those _words…_that _name.

Lee briefly considered the possibility he'd finally and completely snapped, that he was just hallucinating the Viper and its impossible nameplate. Unfortunately it was entirely too solid when he experimentally kicked it, and the nameplate stubbornly refused to change its letters into something more rational. Staring and scowling at them had no effect beyond causing his eyes to burn a little and vision to blur.

Ultimately, all Lee could do was shake his head and return to his tiny campsite. The sun was approaching the horizon, meaning it was time for him to start gathering wood for a fire. He steadfastly refused to look over his shoulder again for the rest of the night, as if this alone would banish the wreckage from existence.

A result that Lee couldn't even say he truly wanted, had he been able to speak at all.

tbc...

* * *

_**De Author Seez:** *loathe* as I am to start another story when I still owe everyone...well, several more...this one has been in the works for awhile. Since the infamous 'Starbuck *Poof*' happened 365 days ago, in fact. As Emma Frost said when she broke Cassandra Nova's neck: "There are somethings you just shouldn't be allowed to get away with."(comic book reference; don't ask) A sentiment I agree with in this case, and this story is my personal effort to correct that frankly silly resolution. _

_I'd actually hoped to have it ready Friday night, but alas, it was not to be. The night "Daybreak" aired, I immediately began writing my way through the five stages of grief. Sadly, it my 'internal editor' got ahold of it and - to date - hasn't let it go. Maybe "Father Apollo" will see light some day soon...maybe. Until then, here's the start of what I hope is something worthwhile. It can't begin to touch more substantive works like those of latteaddict and others, but what the hey._

_Reviews and such are most welcome. More to come, I promise. Until then..._


	2. Chapter 2

_Hello, loyal readers. Sorry its been close to a year on this one; blame the muse for going awol and a couple medication malfunctions. You can thank KAG 523 for getting me off my boney butt and updating; nothing like getting your semi-original idea treated by a superior writer to excite (and shame) the old muse into action. Chapter three is already underway and should be ready soon. Until then…_

**

* * *

**

Part 2

**Days 360-363**

Lee stayed near the wreck for another day, ostensibly to finish restocking his supplies. The truth was somewhat more complex. The supplies were part of it, true, but another (larger) part was he simply couldn't keep away from the wreck…and its impossible nameplate. The presence of _it_ alone was enough to keep him tethered there.

While he foraged, Lee tried to make sense of what he'd found. The nameplate aside, he couldn't help but puzzle over the missing parts to the plane again. Later in the day Lee looked over the entire plane again, this time consciously trying to visualize the pilot's thinking as he did so. Many of the parts made some degree of sense, but other…others seemed senseless.

Chief among the puzzling bits was a missing lateral rod from the forward section near the nose. The Mark IIs had a well-deserved reputation for durability, thanks in large measure to various reinforcement measures built into the airframe. The ribs and spar of the frame, never mind the fuselage itself, all had titanium or carbon-fiber rods welded to them. On later models, like those on _Galactica_ after the attacks, those same rods were positioned in such a way that they could be replaced without having to tear the aircraft apart to do so.

The missing rod was one of the ones made of carbon-fiber and ran from the nose to just short of the cockpit. Those reinforcement rods weren't, so far as Lee could image, particularly useful in a practical sense; the titanium ones couldn't be worked into new shapes, and the carbon-fiber rods were only marginally less 'stiff'. Perhaps the pilot had taken it to use as a walking stick or spear or…something.

Equally puzzling to him was the missing wiring from under the HUD console in the cockpit itself. The pilot had apparently gone to the trouble of prying open the console and taking out a fair length of conduit. Given the age and design of the Mark II, most of that wiring was made of old-fashioned copper and copper-derivatives; meaning it was flexible and malleable, but not overly so. It could be used as a binding, maybe, but Lee had to wonder what good it would serve.

Closer examination of this only deepened the mystery, as Lee soon realized it wasn't just the wiring that had been taken, but is rubberized coating as well. He'd have expected the pilot to cut the conduit free of its insulation so to better shape the material at hand, but why take it with them, especially if they'd already loaded themselves down with fuel, gunpowder, and other materials?

All in all, Lee found himself with just more questions than he had answers to. It was actually less disturbing than the plane's impossible nameplate, which he steadfastly refused to so much as glance at. Perhaps that was why it continued to display _that_ name, long past the time he'd decided it was a physical impossibility. Perhaps he was simply too stubborn – or simply too terrified – to acknowledge the solid reality of it in the first place.

This back-and-forth argument played out largely in his subconscious, so as not to otherwise disturb the vital work of gathering berries and brewing tea with local herb leaves. He even swam for a bit in the river nearby, careful to watch for snakes or other predators who might be attracted by his intrusion. Thankfully such menaces didn't materialize, and Lee spent the remainder of the warm evening drying himself in the open air and organizing for the morning's departure.

Only once his bedroll was laid out campfire was lit did he finally look at the nameplate again. The letters hadn't changed, and still spelled the name he'd run halfway across the world to escape. Not wholly in control of himself anymore, Lee took his pocketknife out and carefully loosened the bolts holding it to the fuselage, quickly prying it free. He took his small prize back to his campsite, laid himself down, and went to sleep.

If he dreamed anything that night, he couldn't remember.

* * *

In time, his death-grip on that piece of metal loosened a little, but never wholly left it. Thus it was the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes the next dawn. Despite the quiet and beauty of that little glade, Lee Adama felt only the urge to leave there and continue on his way. He packed and moving just as the rest of the surrounding forest was rousing, moving on without another glance behind him, as if he feared that wreckage might grow legs and follow him.

Lee took to following the river downstream, judging it would provide the easiest route to navigate. It stood to reason the pilot of that wreck had decided on the same path. If he was fortunate they would have left some sign – either deliberately or otherwise – of their passage there. Something that might even give him some further clue to their identity (his mind quite consciously refusing to so much as acknowledge the nameplate, which had been the first thing he'd packed away when he'd broken camp).

He found the first such sign before noon that same day, in the form of a small crater that had clearly been created with something presumably (and literally) explosive. Crouching to examine the nearly-destroyed tree stump, Lee took note of the evidence of explosive combustion, including the upturned earth and scattered chips of wood and bark that radiated outwards from the stump itself. Granted much of the grass had regrown, but the rest of the area was slower in recovering.

Based on the positioning and limited range of the damage, Lee concluded the pilot must have used some of the powder from the Viper's ordinance in an effort to clear a path. This was confirmed by a careful look at the soil underfoot, the barely-visible drag marks there continuing to lead down-river. It gave him a small breath of relief to know he was heading in the same direction as sh...as _this pilot_.

Lee continued on, pausing more frequently than normal. Occasionally it would be to drink, eat, or relieve himself, but mostly to check his surroundings for further signs of passage. He didn't find anything definite as another blast crater (just how much powder did sh…_the pilot_ use?), merely suggestive: flattened grass and flattened flora mainly, although the drag marks are more prevalent in places. It was enough to reassure him he was moving in the right direction.

Not once during this trek did Lee entertain the smallest hope that he would find the..._this pilot_, whom his mind steadfastly refused to name. It was easier for him that way: to keep moving forward, without holding some impossible hope that was sure to leave him completely insane in the end.

So he walked for another three days, observing signs of passage, generally letting his mind wander a little ahead of him. Lee nevertheless kept his wits about him enough so he wasn't walking into trees or tumbling over cliffs. The steady hum of the river made for nice marching music.

There was no way to measure exactly how far he had walked; Lee estimated he managed between ten to fifteen miles a day. Thinking on it that night, he was a little surprised he hadn't run out of land by now. Then again, he'd been navigating the mountains for a while, which had slowed him down a good bit. What he would do once he reached the coastline…frankly he hadn't really thought that far head yet. Maybe he would just build a boat and...well, who knew?

Lee was well aware of his mental state, and so made no attempt to order his thoughts or limit their range. He was heart-certain that if he tried, they'd immediately turn back to the wreckage he'd left miles behind.

So he let his mind wander about and kept his thoughts well away from said wreck. It was a survival instinct, one he knew well enough to heed in this case. Instead, he studied his newest surroundings with great interest and care.

This valley wasn't nearly as deep as he'd originally thought, the defining walls more like gradual inclines and opening to another field of grass. The drag marks were constant and consistent, although the softer earth of the riverbed soon gave way to firmer soil of the wide field, obscuring the trail until it had faded completely from sight. Lee couldn't help but feel a little bereft there, that trail having given him necessary focus to keep moving.

Perhaps he'd been out on his own for too long, the vast beauty laid before him starting to pale and become…ordinary. Hard to appreciate the miracles of nature on one's own, it seemed.

Or maybe he was just concentrating so hard on looking for clues for where the pilot went. The drag-marks became increasingly obscured in the wild grass, leaving less and less of a trail for Lee. He counted it as a minor miracle there was even a trail in the first place, given the apparent age of the wreckage.

Unfortunately, that bit of grace was soon exhausted and the trail petered out to nothing, leaving Lee standing alone in otherwise virgin grassland. In a moment of bitter humor, he likened it to the field he'd walked away from almost a year ago to the day. He even let out a laugh that this was equal parts humor and hate, thinking how this was the _second _time he'd been left standing alone in a field by…by…

His mind still shied from the name, listing old transgressions as a proxy. Second time she'd abandoned him like this? More like the third, if he included New Caprica. _Which he did._ Should he include after she came back from Caprica with pretty boy toy? _Maybe._ How she ran out of the bunkroom during the Scar Hunt? _Probably._

Transferring back to _Galactica_ after Shaw blew herself to dust. _Well, maybe not. He could have refused it, but hadn't._

Her teasing aboard the _Astral Queen_? _Okay, he'd own up to being the walking away that one time_.

Letting Baltar cut in during Colonial Day, brushing him off the next day. _Damned if she hadn't earned the smack he'd given her, but he'd earned his in turn. Toss-up on that one. _

Pretending she didn't know him that night with Zak? _She lied to Zak, so maybe she'd lied to him as well. Or maybe she was just looking out for the runt. Another toss-up._

Frakking that Major, in _his_ rack, at the Academy? _That'd hurt…more than he could have admitted at the time._

These and other moments played out in his mind's eye as he set up his small camp beside a shallow pond, familiar anger giving energy to his practiced movements, and quickly leaving him drained and shaky. No way he would be going far for the rest of the day, not that he had anywhere to go really. He could see a tree line not far in the distance and decided to head that way tomorrow. If nothing else, he might get some hunting in; get some real exercise in for a change.

Or so Lee told himself as he sat by the pond and watched the sky slowly darken to twilight, then to night, his thoughts paradoxically lighten in turn. He remembered laughter, fights (good-natured and otherwise), arguments, tears, and thousand other moments that made up his life with…her. His final thought, rolling into his meager bedroll, was a single question: _Did any of that crap matter anymore?_

His last waking thought was the answer.

_No._

Hand again clutching the impossible nameplate, Lee Adama slept beneath the stars.

**

* * *

**

Day 364

Lee immediately sensed something was different that morning. He didn't move immediately, instead letting his senses explore his surroundings for danger. It wouldn't be the first time some local wildlife had come sniffing by and proved aggressive. He'd learned that lesson the hard way and trained himself for it.

But he was alone that morning. Nothing had come sniffing, or if it had, had kept its distance. He cautiously opened his eyes, body relaxed and ready to spring if needed. However, his senses hadn't led him wrong and he was in fact still alone there.

So why didn't it feel like it? Lee frowned deeply at this sudden, inexplicable conviction that there was something…someone else nearby. There was nothing to be seen anywhere around the pond, the grass, the horizon, ahead, to the left, to the right, behind him…

Turning around, Lee froze at the sight greeting him. It wasn't anything terribly shocking or dangerous, just a thin, nearly invisible thread of dark smoke in the distance. _Where there's smoke, there's fire_ his mind giggled dangerously. He had teetered on the edge of hysteria more than once in the last few days, his own imagination and the lack of tangible distractions egging him in that direction. Only sheer willpower had kept the bubbling, insane, destructive laughter from overtaking everything. At least now, there really was something else to deal with, beyond his own fevered imaginings.

Lips depressed into a tight line, Lee rummaged in his pack for the pair of binoculars he'd brought with him. Quickly finding them, he walked to the crest of the modest hill nearby and brought the glasses up his eyes. The lens on the right had cracked early in his wandering, so he screwed that eye shut and concentrated on his left, widening the optics as far as they would go.

It took a bit of searching along the distant tree line, but Lee soon caught sight of his target. Tightening the focus didn't help bring any detail to figures that moved near a slightly larger stationary object. He couldn't tell how many there were, beyond how they looked _vaguely_ humanoid, and one seemed taller than the other, and that they moved here and there apparently with purpose. The distance was simply too great to make out anything else, leaving Lee to lie there and scratch his chin.

He'd encountered small bands of natives during his travels, often enough to where he'd gotten a better feel for them as species. They didn't strike as especially inventive or clever beyond the sort of low cunning needed for hunting game and cooking it sufficiently. Then again, they didn't appear to have any rival predators here, and so no need to become inventive or clever. Lee wondered if it would always be so or if they'd…well, evolve a little further, but that was an idle thought.

Of more immediacy was the question of what would he do now? The natives aside, he hadn't really seen or spoken to another soul since leaving the others behind. He judged it would take at least another day for him to reach the tree line from there, even moving at a brisk pace. From his new vantage point, Lee could make out a fair number of streams coming from a central tributary that cut across the grassland between his hill and the forest. It didn't look especially arduous, but then not much did from this angle.

"Guess I'm getting my feet wet," Lee growled, wincing at how dry and scratchy it sounded. No surprise, really, since he honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd spoken more than two words. Climbing back to his feet, Lee returned to his camp and quickly broke it down, mind already at work on recalling his old wilderness survival training, specifically the bits about crossing riverine terrain.

At least it would keep his mind off…other things…for awhile.

It actually took a bit more than a full day to get across the field, in large measure, because a fair portion of it was more akin to marsh than grassland. This mean his footing was less than stable in those areas, said areas appearing more expansive closer to the main tributary than amid the numerous little streams that branched out from it. The area in general was such a uniform shade of green that Lee had no way of discerning what was solid versus marshy. And as he had no desire to slip or step into a sinkhole or onto gods-alone-knew-whatever dwelled in the muck, his progress went from slow to sleepwalking in very short order.

The main tributary was no easy obstacle either. While it reached no higher than his knees, the current was surprisingly strong, sufficiently so that Lee again had to watch his footing _very_ carefully. He could feel more than one darting form slip past his ankles as he waded across, hoping all the while that his toes weren't going to be mistaken for a tasty grub of some kind.

The ground on the other side of it was no easier, albeit slightly less marshy. Lee still kept his progress slow and steady, even when the ground felt dry and solid underfoot; he was making good time and saw no reason to risk breaking his neck.

Not that his target was giving him any reason to hurry. Smoke from their campfire was easy enough to sight, and as he closed the distance, Lee could start to make out more detail. There was additional movement around their tent, although every time he brought up his binoculars (he did so every few hours, just to make sure whoever they were hadn't moved on) that movement ceased. Lee took this to mean either his timing was really bad there, or whoever these people were had seen him approaching and were being smart and keeping as out of sight as possible.

Given all this, it took most of the entire day to cross the single mile that made up the river and its streams. By the end of it, Lee was more than ready to call it a day. The tent and its seen-yet-unseen inhabitants were still visible on the horizon, albeit a good bit closer than before. He still couldn't make out much beyond general shapes, all of whom seemed concerned only with their own affairs (whatever those might be), which truth be told had him a little worried. Surely, they had seen him approaching. Why ignore him?

Lee could only shake his head in wonder, and then busy himself for the coming night. On the chance these people hadn't actually seen him he rigged his waterproof tarp so it served as a sort of shelter wall, so he could light his customary campfire without alerting them to his presence. He had periodically checked back over his shoulder, noting how the others had likewise lit their own campfire and were otherwise engaged.

He would spend the rest of the night resting, but not truly sleeping. Rather he would rouse every so often – which was quite often – and peek around his makeshift duck blind, just to reassure himself the other tent was still there. Whatever it was made of shimmered in the cool moonlight, and thus was easy enough to spot. The rest of his hours were taken up trying to remember the location and distance to the other settlements

Throughout the night, and despite not seeing any further movement in or around the other tent, Lee couldn't escape the feeling _he_ was being watched as well.

_So why didn't that bother him in the slightest? Why did that feel…right?_

The empty and silent sky held no answers for him.

**

* * *

**

Day 365

Dawn seemed slow in coming, and Lee found himself slower still in rousing to meet it. He felt rested, yet anxious, nearly to the point of…what? Hysterical paralysis? That was the only way he could describe being...frozen lying there. And that didn't make much sense, especially given how he was practically chomping at the frakking bit.

"Frak," Lee muttered, letting his head flop back to the ground. "Finally losing it..." he concluded aloud, throat burning with even that minor declaration. How in Tartarus had he managed this long, getting this far, like this? More to the point, what was he going to do now?

And why the frak was he having to _think_ about this now?

Climbing to his feet, Lee took a long draught from his canteen, swished it about, spat, and took another long drink. This one was likewise spat out after a few moments, after which Lee peeked again around the tarp, then began breaking down his camp. Even dragging his feet as he did so, it was quick work as usual. Refilling his canteen, taking down and stowing the tarp away, putting on and lacing up his boots.

Unlacing, then re-lacing his boots, getting a more satisfactory knot in place

Checking and re-checking the compartments of his belt. He went on checking it a third time, finding nothing had moved.

Lee began patting his pockets for the binoculars, not finding them ready at hand, only to then remember they'd been packed away in his rucksack. He couldn't immediately decide if it was it worth the delay to dig them out. Neither could he even begin to explain his sudden reluctance to cross the remaining distance between himself and that other tent.

Then again, it had been exactly 365 days since he'd seen or spoken to another living soul. He'd gotten used to the silence and solitude. Maybe too used to it, if he was nearly panicking like this over…what exactly? It wasn't likely he actually _knew_ these people, most of the settlements he could remember being closer to the coasts and plains back east. What the frak was up with him?

Maybe he really was finally cracking up. Was he even safe to be around? He had a gun, after all. A gun packed safely away at the bottom of his rucksack…

Lee shook his head, hard. He'd already lost most of the morning with this…pointless rumination. If he was actually going to communicate with these people while he still had daylight, it was time to _get moving! _

It occurred to Lee as he walked he might well have been saying all these things aloud. Further proof he was coming apart or just that he'd already lost his frakking mind and was only now realizing that small fact? Neither possibility seemed to trouble him much.

No, what was troubling were the details he could start to make out as he approached the encampment. The tent, for example, was a mishmash of materials and conical in shape. Lee noted the material near the apex had a shimmering quality, the same way the woven fibers of a Viper's ejection parachute might, and contrasted with the many lengths of skins that circled the base. He recalled reading of such shelters in history, used by nomadic settlers on Geminon and Libra, called a 'lavvu' or something like that. Perhaps his people had more in common with the natives than they had first thought.

Then again, maybe he'd happened across some of his own. That made equal sense, especially as he could recall some of the spirited debate that went into the decision to spread their numbers across the continent. Some of the squadron had embraced the nomad mindset wholehearted, so a lavvu using a parachute made sense as well.

He could also see a small fire pit ringed with stones near the shelter, a primitive spit arranged over it, and a strange arrangement of cut branches secured to a pair of nearby trees. Lee supposed it was meant to be some kind of rack, though for what eluded him.

He'd come within perhaps twenty yards of the camp when its inhabitants appeared from the other side of the lavvu, causing Lee to stop dead in his tracks. One was human, the other canine. The latter noticed him immediately a tensed slightly, cocking its head in his direction, but otherwise making no aggressive move.

It was the human that took up Lee's awareness. Specifically how they marched out of the forest, dragging what looked like the canopy of a Viper behind them, using an ingenious harness made from the ejection harness from the same. The canopy was serving as an improvised sled, upon which was a number of small and medium sized game. Slung about the human's shoulders was a bow constructed from what he guessed was one of the missing fuselage ribs and a tightly stretched cord of some kind. There was no quiver in evidence, but that was a distant consideration for Lee.

Of more immediacy was the human herself. And, as Lee forced himself to close the distance another five then ten then fifteen yards, it became increasingly clear it was a 'her'.

A 'her' who was clad in what initially looked like poorly cut animal hides...but upon closer viewing were actually the ragged pieces of a Colonial flight suit.

A 'her' whose straw-blonde hair hung long and loose, reaching well down her back.

A 'her' who, despite her four-legged companion's quiet whine at his approach, steadfastly refused to look up or anywhere in his general direction. Rather she kept her back to him, kneeling on the ground near her improvised sled and proceeding to clean her fresh kills.

Somehow, despite disbelief, fear, and impossible hope, Lee managed to croak out a name he hadn't been able to _think_, never mind vocalize since he'd taken his first step on this long journey:

"Kuh...Kara?"

The only reaction this elicited was a loud snort and a guttural snarl, the voice rough and nearly incomprehensible:

"Oh, frak! You again?"

**TBC...**

_

* * *

_

Feedback? Please? Pretty please?


	3. Chapter 3

_Off we go again. Enjoy._

**

* * *

**

Part 3

**Day 365 (late morning)**

"Oh, frak! You again?"

Lee felt himself flinch and tense, suddenly on-guard from the raw anger and aggression within that handful of syllables. He wanted so badly to recognize the rough voice…but couldn't connect it to the voice of memory. Paranoia flashed through his mind, leading him to fear he was _hearing_ things that that weren't there. Surely he wasn't so far gone as to be _hallucinating_ things now...was he?

Clearing his throat, Lee tried again. "Kara? Is..."

The woman remained bent over her work, again snorting in open derision. "You _said_ we were done, Apollo. Or whatever the frak you want to call yourself. You _said, _and I quote, 'you don't need me anymore'. An' that was a whole frakking year ago!" She shook her head, causing her sun-kissed hair to sway and shimmer in a single wave. "Yeah, I've been keeping count. Three hundred and sixty-five days, to the minute."

Lee felt his mouth fall open, then shut, then open again, then shut again. He was sure he hadn't blinked since the woman first stepped into view. Hearing all this, however, nearly sent him tumbling backwards, mentally as well as physically. Somewhere he found the will and presence to push his voice back into action, even if all he could manage was "Whuh...what are you talking about?"

The figure kneeling before him slumped her shoulders dramatically and laughed. "If that's the best you can do these days, Apollo, I'm gonna..." She shook her head again. "Look, I've had a frakking long day already. Just say whatever it is you've come to say and frak off, okay? You've been haunting me for years on end since I woke up...I've done _everything_ you said...up to and including shooting all my bullets off." She went still for a moment, then shuddered as if reliving some unpleasant moment in memory. Raising her head in an achingly familiar posture of defiance, she spat "You know something? I wouldn't mind it if you would, I dunno, _pretend _to be someone else for once? I mean, the whole Apollo shtick. It got _old_ a long frakking time ago." Another snort of derision followed. "S'not I ever listened to the frakker in the first place. Dunno why you'd thought I would _now_."

"You…threw away your bullets?" It was the best response Lee could manage, his mental traction still unsteady.

"Noooo," the woman drawled. "I _shot_ them off, _into_ the frakking ground, like you frakking _told_ me to, _remember_? Said you 'didn't want me getting ideas'." She spat the words as if they were something too vile for mortal ears. "Direct quote, by the way. Yeah, I remember everything you've said to me."

She paused her work for several beats, shoulders slumping again, only to rally somewhat. There's a strange calm when she speaks again, one that pulls Lee forward despite himself. It's not defeat per se, although that is the only term that fits, given her earlier outbursts and nonsensical ramblings. "Look," the woman says. "I haven't done anything _stupid_. I've been watching my back. I've been making good. I've done every single frakking thing you said I should. So, whatever it is this time, will you please just say it and _vanish_ like you _always_ do?"

When he says nothing, because there is literally nothing he could say to such a thing, her voice quiets to something close to a prayer. "I'm not gonna turn around, Apollo. I can't…can't take seeing…you vanishing…jus' vanishing an' leaving me alone again. I jus' can't…"

Lee could think of no sane or clear response to this. He glanced at her canine companion, who simply cocked its head towards him, almost appearing to shrug in sympathy. He rubbed his temples for several long moments, trying to process all this, trying desperately to make sense of the woman's incomprehensible venom. Trying, but ultimately failing, because there was one question that needed answering before anything else.

Before fully realizing it, Lee closed the distance between them, kneeling down barely an arm's length from the blonde-haired woman. Reaching out, his fingers brushed her shoulder as he asked "Kara, is that you...?"

At the first touch of his fingertips, the woman spun around, a solid fist coming around equally fast and catching him in square in the jaw. "_Of course it's me, you frak...!_" she screeched, only to cut off suddenly, apparently surprised when her fist hit flesh.

Lee reacted on pure instinct, lashing out with a fist of his own and clipping her in the chin. Some perverse part of him mentally quipped, '_This seems familiar_.' The rest of him furiously blinked away the stars that danced across his eyes and mind from the punch, focus rapidly returning to confront the hazel-green eye spearing him in an unblinking stare. Thankfully, his hearing was unaffected, otherwise he would have surely missed her gasp of disbelief and whispered plea.

"Yuh…you're…?" When words failed, the single eye on him seemed to dilate, the pupil all but swallowing that vibrant color.

"Luh...Lee...?"

Taking a fortifying breath and bracing himself for another onslaught, Lee gave her a sharp nod and looked up. "Yeah, it's me. Who'd you expect?"

"I...I..."

Her stuttering, so uncharacteristic and voice cracking as it did pulled Lee's to hers. Whatever else he might have spat died on his lips at the sight there.

The skin was darker, contrasting with the sun-bleached hair that framed features that were leaner, more angular for the weight lost. Her lips were still full, but ringed with creases and wrinkles that had no business on her face...never mind how much weight she had clearly lost...

It was the fugitive look in her eye (one was hidden by the curtain of her thick hair) that brought him short. Rage he could understand, he could relate to that. But raw confusion, even outright fear? That look...it didn't belong in _those_ eyes, which were the same clear mix of hazel and jade as he remembered. It shouldn't, couldn't possibly be there...

"Lee...?"

Neither should that uncertainty have laced her voice so thoroughly, drowning out everything else. What the frak was this? If he had cracked up and was now imagining things, couldn't his melting gray cells have come up with something a little more believable? If he were going to imagine seeing Kara again, surely she'd be the same as when she vanished on him, in the field so far in the distance. She'd be whole and normal, not sunburnt and trembling…not like this…and that meant…

He nearly screamed when she reached out and grazed his bearded cheek with unsteady fingers. "Gods…you…you're…" There was a touch of awe in her voice, and just as much fear.

"Hi," was about all Lee could manage. That, and a breathless plea of "Kara? Is it really…?"

He didn't get any further, as two thin but absurdly strong arms were thrown around his neck, nearly knocking him completely flat. His own were around her before this thought fully registered, though that was more to balance himself than the fact…well, where else would his arms be right then _except_ circling _her_?

Other thoughts quickly intruded however. _Distracting_ thoughts, like how she…how Kara was shaking from toes to crown…making it damned hard to keep hold of her…

And how he could literally _feel_ the bones in Kara's arms now…a terrifying confirmation of either her reality or his complete mental collapse…either possibility unsettling _easy_ to believe…

Lee gave himself a hard shake, as if this alone might dislodge any doubts about both her _and_ himself. Surprisingly, this actually calmed his racing mind and allowed him to re-focus on the only thing that really mattered right then:

Kara Thrace was in his arms, holding him every bit as tightly as he did her.

Everything else – including the thousand and one questions he wanted to literally shake out of her – would just have to wait until she calmed enough to do more than scream into his shoulder and pound on his back with both fists.

**

* * *

**

(

**Late**** afternoon)**

It proved a damned long wait, but eventually her limbs and compact frame no longer shook so violently that his own teeth rattled. Only then did Lee dare loosen his grip on her. His muscles, back, hips and pretty much every ligament in his whole frakking body ached in the doing. They had evidentially been sitting there a long time, and while Kara had been in constant if subtle motion, Lee had instinctively felt it necessary to do an impression of the mythic Colossus of Ro'dahs on the assumption that if he remained calm and collected, she might do the same.

The dog had periodically meandered over to sit beside them, often times giving Kara's hand a reassuring lick, but mostly kept its distance and napped the day away. Lee suspected this, like his effort to calm her by example, went unnoticed. Going by how soaked his shoulder and neck were by the time she stilled, he'd been witness to the Starbuck-equivalent of a complete nervous breakdown, complete with her having fainted dead away once she'd cried herself hoarse.

Much as he might have wished to remain there, cradling her as she slept, Lee wasn't prepared to leave her lying in the noonday sun without some cover. Besides, her kills needed to be skinned and cleaned or they would spoil, and he would rather _not_ give Kara any excuse to punch him in the face again. Once a day was more than enough, thank you very much.

Lee wondered if he wasn't channeling his nominal namesake, or at least the demigod Herakles, as both hauling himself to his feet while hefting Kara's now-limp frame up with both arms should have proved more of an effort with the way he felt. But beyond a couple joints popping and his lower back issuing a mild protest, he had no difficulty doing both. A couple of stumbling steps later and he was inside the lavvu, unsurprised to see a threadbare sleeping bag laid out atop a spread of skins. Clearly, Kara hadn't been idle since her arrival and retained more of her survival training than he himself had. Or maybe she was just more practiced at this point.

Settling Kara onto her bedding, Lee couldn't help but kneel there and just gaze. He should be shaking her awake, demanding to know…what? What did he need to know so badly she had to be disturbed?

_How long she's been here?_ Her Viper tells that story adequately.

_What's happened to her?_ His mind shrank from the multitude of possibilities, instinctively knowing the details will be far worse.

_How often did 'Apollo' come to her?_ As if this were anything he cared to know.

_Did he touch her?_ As if he could stand to know without losing his frakking mind.

Lee brushed his fingers through her thick hair, as if this would stop his thoughts and fears from racing further in that direction. It was a wonder she hadn't simply hacked it to her preferred length with a knife. Those same fingers brushed it back from the left side of her face; it bothered him how she would let her hair obscure her LOS like that. Surely, she wasn't so cock-sure of her skills with a bow or a knife that she…

His hand, thoughts, and quite likely his heart stilled to stone as his fingertips brushed the last of her hair away, exposing the pair of livid scars that ran almost perfectly horizontal from her cheekbone to the lobe of her ear. There were a couple smaller ones along her jaw line, and a third prominent one just over her eye and disappearing past the hairline.

Later, when enough time and distance had passed from the day's tempestuous events that he could consciously _think_ about them with at least a modicum of calm, Lee's would feel both irritation and shame. The former for being so surprised in the first place as this was an untamed world in every sense, and had left a few such marks upon him.

The latter…well, that was a little more complicated, bound up in better than 20 years of unvoiced passions and misunderstood moments. He would think to himself how she had departed his world unmarked and unmarred – marriage tattoo notwithstanding – so how _dare _she come back to him scarred so, in body as well as mind. The shame he would feel wasn't because the damage made her less beautiful in his eyes, but rather from the irrational and absolute conviction that had long ago nestled in the deepest sanctum of his soul that _he_ and he _alone_ was allowed to mark Kara Thrace in any manner. He had tolerated Sam and their shared tattoo because, truthfully, he had been too much the coward to stake his own righteous claim on her back then. That she likely would have simply run again, harder and still further, didn't even enter into it.

At that moment, however, Lee Adama was simply too taken aback by everything to do more than stumble back to his feet and out of her ingenious, if crude, shelter. The canine looked up, and then settled back to his napping as Lee fell to his knees barely two steps from the entrance, doubling over almost immediately, guts literally churning with fear and confusion.

What was he to make of all this? Kara suddenly proving not only alive, but also according to evidence that she had been on this planet for years already. It was...beyond insane, or so his rapidly crumbling sanity seemed to be claiming. Except that was the only plausible description of all this, which meant that all that crap Baltar had been spewing before they arrived wasn't crap at all. At least, not the bits that always left Lee itching for his sidearm whenever the former Vice President and perpetually self-involved slug was within sight.

His thoughts racing this way and that accomplished nothing beyond leaving him dizzy and thirsty. Lee managed to drag himself over to his pack, pulling one of his canteens out, a small groan burning his throat when he realized it was empty, as was the second one. Without thinking about it, he grabbed the one hanging from Kara's own pack. The single mouthful of warm water it yielded only made him thirstier still.

Paradoxically, this actually helped Lee focus a bit past his confusion and (loathe as he was to own up to it) subtle hysteria. It gave him a practical goal upon which to focus and act on, no small mercy as he would likely have otherwise keeled over and never gotten back up. But he had no idea how long Kara had been out hunting, and he wasn't prepared to risk her going dehydrated for any length of time. Gods knew he'd need to keep his own throat moist if half the yelling he was expecting to come actually happened!

Picking up the canteens, he set off on a brisk job towards the nearest stream, which unfortunately was a good distance away. Lee had hoped one of the smaller tributaries could have served his purpose so he could get back to the shelter quickly. Unfortunately, most of the little streams either had dried out or proved too muddy to provide anything drinkable. This meant he had to return to the main river, and that took far more time than he felt comfortable with.

Nevertheless, Lee took some care getting there and filling the canteens. Undoubtedly, they would have to boil the water to ensure it was drinkable. He'd made the mistake of drinking from a similar body early in his wandering without trying to purify it first, and spent a miserable three days afterwards with a sour stomach, runny bowels, and wishing he'd had the foresight to pack a coin somewhere for his impending passage with The Ferryman.

Lee shook his head hard, clearing his thoughts of such morbid foolishness. The gods, or whatever local equivalent, were at play had seen fit to grant him his heart's impossible wish. Now was hardly the time to start thinking of death...

As if to either mock him or mirror such ponderings, a solitary gunshot rang out across the silent sky. Lee's thoughts and body acquired speed that surely put mythical Hermes to shame, his feet hardly touching the ground as he raced back to the shelter, a single cry pulled from his throat before the din even began to fade:

"_Kara!_"

**Tbc...**

* * *

_**Zee Author Seez:**__ Everybody just put the pitchforks down and back away from the bonfire! There is a plan here, and it doesn't involve…well, that would be telling. Blame a certain KAG for helping me figure out how to make this little plot twist work out to everyone's satisfaction (I hope!), otherwise I wouldn't have ended it like this. Really._

_Feel free to hit the Review button as liberally as you wish. It might even get me to write a bit faster!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Not exactly beta'd (yet), but I figured however few readers I've got left have suffered enough from my writer's block. So...enjoy, I guess. _

* * *

**Chapter 4**

**Day 365 (late afternoon)**

As he ran back to the shelter, Lee could feel his own thoughts racing ever harder, his breath and heart heaving in equal time.

_She said she fired off her bullets that Apollo told her to fire off her bullets so where did she get bullets from where do you think frakhead you left your gun in your pack and you left your pack in plain sight and she's half crazy now and you're completely out of your frakking mind leaving her like that did you think she was just going to wake up and sit around waiting for you when she thinks you're Apollo and not Lee and how long has that frakker been making her crazy she's not crazy she's alive and now she may be dead because you couldn't think further than your ass you complete frakhead you left a gun in arm's reach of her when she's alive but she's crazy and lonely and probably thinks your ran off without her again except you never ran off without her she's the one who ran off and you should have stayed until she woke up but you didn't because you were thirsty and too stupid to think or wait or think further than your stomach what the frak is wrong with you with her its all Apollo's fault except its all your fault because you let her fly into that storm and blow up when you should've flown down after her Kara I'm sorry I'm sorry please don't be dead don't be dead don't be dead I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry please I won't leave you please don't be dead don't be dead please don't Kara I'm sorry Kara Kara Kara Kara..._

"Kara!" Had he breath, Lee would surely have shouted it. Rather, it was all he could do to whisper her name through dried lips and around a tongrue that was suddenly too thick and numb to carry the word.

Just as well, as the sight that greeted him robbed him of breath and calm as thoroughly as if he'd found her fresh corpse rotting in the sun. Instead of Kara, he found only the canine, who had pressed back near the treeline and looking anything but calm. Lee found it reassuring he wasn't alone in his panic here. He also knew better than to try approaching the poor animal, especially given its ears were flat against his skull and hackles raised high.

Lee left the canine to itself and looked about desperately for any sign of Kara herself. He'd tried to steel himself to find her body or a mass of blood or...gods alone knew what he might find. His panic however only worsened when there was neither a body nor blood to be seen anywhere in the small camp: not beside the ingenous shelter, nor anywhere close to the tree line, nor beside the stripped branches Kara had set up like a rack, to presumably drap curing meat or drying clothes on.

This actually did little to calm his still-racing thoughts, but did provide him desperately needed focus. If there was no corpse, that meant...what could that mean? Lee took a deep breath and visually searched out his backpack, seeing it was sill more or less where he'd left it. Clearly _someone_ had gone through it, not at all systematically, and found his sidearm…

…which was inexplicably lying a good three meters away from the lavvu, its barrel still smoking.

Paranoia flashed through his mind; Lee blinked several times to make sure he wasn't imagining it, and several more to make sure he wasn't blocking seeing any bodies lying nearby. Gods knew his head was so cracked by that point it was a minor miracle his brains hadn't oozed out. Hallucinating this whole scene was no harder to believe than finding...finding...that she'd...he'd...that...

"Kara?" he stuttered, as much in pain and confusion as blind hope.

A weak sound, something between a despairing sob and an equally confused and hopeful cry, emanated from the lavvu, prompting Lee to approach the shelter with the sort of caution one afforded a pack of rabid tigers. He slowly pulled the entrance flap aside, body tensed and ready for an equally explosive and hysterical Starbuck to come crashing into him.

Instead, all that happened was a broad shaft of light slanting into the shadowed interior. It took a few extra betas for Lee's vision to acclimate to the same shadows, hence his first missing the huddled shape therein. What was one more formless-looking shape amid so many other formless-looking shades? Only when that self-same shape visibly trembled did it draw Lee's eye, and even then it took him time to realize it wasn't just a trick of the eye.

Easier to believable it was that, rather than believe it was the invincible, irrepressible Starbuck had become.

But belief seeped through even the most stubborn denial. He didn't try to fight it when it finally did so, even if it left him utterly dizzy (and horrified) at the implications he'd barely had time to previously consider. Not that he had the time right then, either. Not when that frakking gunshot was still echoing in his ears. Lee focused on _that_, simply because pissed him off enough to forget all his confusion and fears. Pissed him off enough to practically stomp into the lavvu, reach down, and grab arms that were at once too solid and too thin to be believed.

He was hauling her out of the shelter and into the sunlight almost before he realized he was actually _doing _it. Pulling her, shaking her, screaming at her...

"What the frak, Kara? Huh? What the frak were you...what...were you thinking? You stupid…frakking…godsdamned…!"

...pulling her tight against him, arms encircling her tighter than he could ever remember. Tighter than the _Astral Queen_, or New Caprica, or the Dance, or the locker they hid in from the mutiny. He held her as if that alone would keep her from vanishing once more.

A little while later he would realize she was holding him equally tightly, her clenched fists pounding weakly on his back. Lee almost laughed, a hysterical edge to that small sound he quickly tramped down. Pissed as he was - and damned if the woman didn't see _blood red_ this time – Lee didn't want to spook any worse than she already was. He'd happily strangle the idiocy out of her later.

His sputtering and screaming aside, neither could really focus enough to saying anything worth a damn. What could be said, after all, that standing there and clinging to each other so tightly couldn't say?

* * *

**Day 365 (twilight)**

"You. Frakking. Bitch." Lee snarled into her shoulder.

Their legs had given out awhile back, but neither were in the mood or mind to loosen their grip on the other. As such they'd just collapsed to a tangled heap on the ground, possibly cracking their kneecaps in the process. Thankfully his mental anguish was more than enough to keep those considerations at bay.

Rather, Lee adjusted where Kara was effectively sitting on his lap. In another lifetime, he'd have certainly found it desirable (and more besides). Right then all he could think was how frakking _easy_ it would be to reach her neck and…

There was a trembling little vibration tickling his neck as he thought this. It was subtle, something he almost missed entirely, and made the forgivable mistake of thinking it was her _snoring_ into the hollow of her neck. The thought merely enraged him further…until he realized _she hadn't frakking stopped shaking_. Whatever her state of mind or health, Kara clearly wasn't asleep.

Biting his lower lip, Lee strained his hearing to make it out what it was. The one word he could hear clearly was all but meaningless: "left".

"Kara?" Lee questioned in whisper that, itself, held only a whisper of calm. "Kara...what...?"

"You...left..."

"I...wha...?" Words failed him utterly, only for her to find her voice stronger and clearer than ever. That seemed to be the way the universe worked between them, not that Lee cared for it one bit; but then when had the gods and all creation ever cared for his opinion?

"You...left...me...you...frakking..."

Her arms again crushed him to her. How could someone who had been so weak and catatonic but a few breaths ago suddenly find such stregneth? He could feel her untrimed fingernails through the worn fabric of his shirt, clawing into him with clear malice of forethought. There was no doubt in Lee's mind she meant to do him _real_ damage here, which strangely enough put his mind and body completely at ease.

There was the feel of her lips on the exposed flesh of his neck, the brush of her teeth on his skin, the latter nipping peeple-sized bites there. Lee would never recall a feeling as sweet as the tiny, never-shattering pain that went with that.

He tightening his own grip on her, wondering for a crazed moment if he should..._adjust_ things so she wouldn't immediatley feel the fast-growing pressure in his groin. The moan that worked through the air between them wasn't his alone, however, and Kara showed no inclination to allow herself to be shifted or moved in any direction. The slightest move on his part had her biting down on his neck again, possibly drawing blood in the doing, and her nails-turned-claws surely tearing his shirt apart in the process.

Those same clawing fingers had worked their way from his back, up across his shoulders, and ultimately tangled themselves in his hair. They raked his scalp, surely leaving scars there to be found in the morning, and Lee couldn't bring himself to care.

All he could care about was how, through it all, Kara was still talking. Cursing him, really, which only solidified the reality of her all the more.

"You left you frak you don't get to leave again again an' again leave me don't think it makes us even you left let me go an' you die I'll kill you before let you go you don't get to go away again don't care what you are who you are Lee Lee oh gods Lee you're not leaving I can't I won't let you you can't go I'm not I'm here you're here can't be here how'd you get don't care don't care why you'd leave me alone why'd I think you frak you frak you frak you..."

The curses eventually gave way to outright sobbing. Those in turn eventually fell to another round of hissed curses, each punctuated with her fists pounding on his back and further chunks of his flesh worried by her teeth (each of which might well have become fangs for how easily they felt to be puncturing his neck and shoulder and chin and ear). Lee enduring this all, happily willing to do so for the next millennium if that's what was needed to keep Kara here with him.

It wasn't like he had anywhere else to be, nor anywhere he cared to be.

Kara was _there_, so that's where he'd be as well. The rest of creation could go fade away or frak off.

* * *

**Day 365 (night)**

When the last of the daylight had faded, in the nighttime moon had already risen to bathe them in its cool light, only then did Kara seem to finally run out of steam and curses and strength. The last wasn't clearly not completely gone, given she didn't loosen her grip on Lee by much, even as the rest of her slumped against him in utter fatigue. Its was a burden Lee didn't especially mind either, though it did make for some interesting (never mind back-breaking) maneuvering to get them back into her shelter.

How he managed that little chore was as much a mystery as the rest of this bizarre situation, but manage it he did, depositing them both on the makeshift furs in there and heaving for his effort. He was laid out beside the still-clinging Kara before he fully realized it, head spinning for both the raw fatigue and still-rawer insanity that had gripped them both that day. Lee doubted he had the energy to raise his head, never mind pull free of Kara's encircling arms. Nor did he even try to.

Rather, he closed his eyes, and allowed himself to drift away into the darkness. His one prayer: _if this is a dream, don't let me wake up._

**Tbc...**

* * *

_**De author seez:**__ yes, more is coming. And yes, I'll explain what happened while Lee was down at the stream. How soon that happens if open to question. Mayhap a review or three (or twenty) will motivate da muse to get it back in gear. _


End file.
